


Imposture

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, Masquerade, Secret Identity, Sexual Content, king!silva, mobage card outfits, thief!chrollo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Masks only hide so much. For some, they enhance.





	Imposture

**Author's Note:**

> so today is mine and yogls anni so this is the fic i wrote to celebrate! its based on those new mobage cards with the pt masquerade outfits. i hope you enjoy!!

If someone were to ask Chrollo what his favorite facet of the evening had been thus far, he would probably be honest and say the fact that it was nearly over.

Chrollo held back a yawn and snatched up another ladyfinger from the passing tray, taking a bite of the confection and wishing it was something sweeter. Even the food here was lackluster, he grumbled, chewing ruefully as he stared dolefully at the gathered mass. He had expected something better in most regards, but the scene before him was just a disappointment on top of a waste of time.

At least the decorations were nice. Chrollo couldn’t boast of having been to many ballrooms, invited or no, but even he had to admit that what the king had presented tonight was something to be admired. The walls were draped with colorful bolts of fabric, the colors as bright as a sunset in motion. Shiny silver and glistening crystal tempted Chrollo something awful with every tray that passed him by, the waiters in their plain, purple masks just another feature to the room’s finery. Music lilted in the air, a hidden orchestra lurking somewhere just out of sight. Chrollo leaned against the wall at his back, his fingertips skimming the silk that clung to cool stone.

He didn’t belong here and he never would, his stolen outfit and mask and invitation meaningless amidst the luxury. His mask was plain and white, his outfit nice but still a far cry from what he saw before him. The dancers were graceful as they spun to the quick, pompous music, gowns and tailcoats billowing like ripples in a colorful river. Ladies like bejeweled peacocks skipped and glided, their delicate hands laden with rings and their throats dripping with gems of every color. The men were just as ostentatious, their desire only hidden somewhat behind their feathered masks. They all bled into the background of the ballroom, a moving, bobbing addition to the elaborate room.

Chrollo looked away and reached for a glass of expensive champagne, the bubbly golden drink more ostentatious than Chrollo’s entire outfit. Compared to the silk at his back and the display at his front, his existence was nearly ignorable. It was better that way, in a sense. He’d come here for something more than just frivolity, yet here he stood, judging the event as if he had the right to take part in it. He wouldn’t waste much more time out here. He’d finish his drink, snatch up another lackluster treat, and then get on with what he had come here to do. It was only fair to the noble he had robbed of this evening. If he were going to ruin one man’s night, he might as well make sure he got done what he had wanted to get done.

Draining the glass, Chrollo rested the empty flute on the nearest table. This really was a dull party. Sighing, he shook his head and took one last glance around. Everyone would be occupied here for at least another few hours. If he were going to get to work, he should do it now. He was near the hallway already, so it wouldn’t take much to disappear from a party where he was already invisible.

It was just as he was beginning to move towards the exit that he found himself accosted. “Leaving already?” a low voice asked, nearly making Chrollo jump. Chrollo froze and then turned, his heart hammering.

The man before him looked every ounce the beast his mask painted him as. He stood tall and broad, with a river of pale hair restrained in a tie behind his back. A fur trim edged his cape, the colors all muted and dark and wild. Chrollo craned his neck to meet the stranger’s eyes through his lion mask, a bit cowed by the sheer size of him. He was a noble, no doubt, but one that Chrollo failed to identify. Which wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Chrollo had better things to do than worry about nobility, not when he could be worrying himself over where they kept their valuables.

“Excuse me?” Chrollo asked, taking a discrete step back. He hadn’t tried to attract attention, but somehow his efforts had failed him.

“I asked,” the man said, his voice pleasingly low alongside the music, “if you were leaving already. You’ve hardly taken part at all. It would be a shame if you were to retire so early.”

Chrollo wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Why do you care?” he asked pointedly. The dance had ended but another promised to start up soon. Hopefully this man would go off once other distractions presented themselves. “If I’m bored I think it makes perfect sense to go off and find something else to entertain me.”

Instead of leaving him alone, the stranger just frowned, crossing his own arms to loom over Chrollo like he had the right to continue the conversation. “Is the event not to your liking, my lord?” the man asked, gesturing with one hand at the opulent wealth around them. “The king worked tirelessly to orchestrate this ball. No expenses were spared. What is there to find fault in?”

“Why do you care?” Chrollo asked. “Why are you bothering with me? The music will start soon, so why don’t you go dance and leave me be?” Somewhere off to the side, Chrollo heard a woman gasp. He didn’t bother to look at her. If he was being rude, then so be it. He had things to do. Maintaining a nonexistent image didn’t factor into that this late in the evening.

Chrollo was forced back a step when the man came even closer, towering over him intimidatingly. “It’s my duty to make sure that the guests are enjoying themselves,” the stranger said, cocking his head like the big cat he was masquerading as. “For someone so lovely, you certainly don’t act it. Tell me what displeases you. Perhaps I can help.”

The man was big but not so big that Chrollo couldn’t still see the teasing sight of the internal hallway just across the room, calling to him like a siren to hurry up and get to what he had come here to do. Chrollo sighed and looked up at the man blocking his way. It didn’t take much to see that this man was appraising him, his eyes heavy as they took in the lines of Chrollo’s body through his tailored clothes. If he wanted to know Chrollo’s thoughts, then he’d get them, since that was all Chrollo was likely to give him.

“The king is a fool if he thinks that these are adequate refreshments for an event like this,” Chrollo complained, nodding towards the platters scattered about the ballroom. “I’ve had street food better than what’s being served here, and that makes me think the king is wasting his money. Why hire some fancy chef when you could simply patronize one of your local markets instead? The quality would be better, the taste better, and you’d save money in the end while also supporting your local economy.”

The man said nothing but his eyes were wide behind his mask. The nobles who meandered while in wait for the return of the music stopped and stared a bit, hiding their whispers behind their hands before quickly walking away. Chrollo ignored it all, ticking off on his fingers all he had come to hate over the course of the evening. This stranger had broken the dam, so he could very well deal with Chrollo’s annoyance in exchange.

“And the drinks,” Chrollo went on. “Serve something capable of getting me drunk? Champagne is all well and good but this is a party, and a painful one at that. The least the king could do is provide something stronger for those longing to escape the monotony. Don’t you agree?”

The towering man before him startled a little, his eyes still wide. “I… I think I do agree,” he said slowly, watching Chrollo for some sort of reaction that he wasn’t getting.

“And you,” Chrollo said, pointing at the man before him.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I’m just trying to leave, and yet here you are, acting as if I have to stay simply because this party hasn’t ended.” Chrollo frowned up at the man. “If the king thinks he should hold his guests hostage, then this event is past saving.”

“You really aren’t like the others here, are you? Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before and I would remember a tongue like yours.”

Chrollo froze, his mind churning. He coughed a little and crossed his arms tighter. He was doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing, and he’d gone and attracted attention to himself too. “I’m no one,” Chrollo said, looking off at the door longingly. “Just another mask in the room. Same as you.”

“You’re playing that game too?” The man sighed, cocking his head as he took Chrollo in carefully. “How intriguing. Unlike most here, you wear the mask well. I’ve no idea who you might be.”

His words helped Chrollo to relax a little. At least the man wasn’t suspicious. “One of the few good things this party has done right,” Chrollo joked a little, managing a small smile. “I’m no one interesting. So,” he said, taking a step around the man in his way. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be taking my leave now.”

A large hand wrapped around Chrollo’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t go yet,” the man said, tugging Chrollo back a little. “At least humor me with a dance first. Perhaps it might sweeten your evening where the refreshments failed.”

Oh, Chrollo thought, rolling his eyes behind his mask. He had gone and gotten himself an admirer. Joy. He sighed and let the man move him, tugging him towards the main floor where the dancers were reconvening. “I really don’t have time for this,” he tried to say. The more people who took notice of him the harder it would be to avoid being blamed come morning.

The hand slipped down his arm to take his hand. Chrollo blushed, his hand so small in the stranger’s large grip. “Please?” the man asked, smiling charmingly beneath the edge of his mask. “I’d feel terrible if I let you leave without enjoying a single part of the evening.”

Chrollo didn’t know why he was considering it. Something about the man seemed familiar, almost as if Chrollo had seen him before. “Just one,” Chrollo said, hoping it would be a short song. “I really do need to leave soon.” If he humored him a little, it would probably make it easier to slip away later.

The music started up just as they reached the edge of the floor reserved for dancing. Chrollo, cheeks already a little pink, waited for the man to take him by the hand. “I’m not that good at dancing,” Chrollo warned him, resting his own hands on the stranger’s shoulders. “If I step on you it’ll be your fault for making me try.”

“That’s surprising,” his partner replied, his hand heavy and nearly burning against Chrollo’s hip. “Someone as lovely as you should have no lack of willing partners. I would think you’d have plenty of practice.”

He was beginning to think that perhaps this man hadn’t been only concerned about the enjoyment of Chrollo’s evening. Chrollo looked at their feet and tried not to step on his partner, feeling exposed despite the mask covering his face. “You would be wrong to think that,” Chrollo murmured. Who would ask him to dance in the slums? Revelry was reserved for the rich, and, Chrollo supposed, those who pretended to be rich like him tonight. “I am no one special. Not many people take notice of me.”

With a swell in the music came a complicated step, Chrollo held out at arm’s length as he was spun in a gentle circle. The man navigated Chrollo expertly, obviously, a seasoned dancer, and when he pulled Chrollo close, he made sure to bring him as close as he possibly could. “Then I’m one of the few with good taste,” the stranger said, his hand dragging down Chrollo’s spine. It was a bit beyond what the dance called for but he did it regardless.

Despite his best efforts, Chrollo found himself leaning into the warm hands and heady voice. What was this? He’d only had a few sips of champagne. There was no reason for him to be so affected by the proximity. “Why do you care so much?” Chrollo asked, looking up to try and see past the stranger’s mask. All around them danced the gathered nobles, but for a moment, they disappeared, leaving only the stranger and Chrollo in the room.

“Perhaps because I’ve watched you all evening,” the stranger said, whispering it in his ear as he spun Chrollo in a close, tight spin. “Watched you stand off on your own, so beautiful that the rest simply refused to see you out of jealously. I looked, though. I watched you and wanted you and when you moved to leave, I simply couldn’t let you go so easily.”

Chrollo found himself breathless before he could tell himself to pull away. Chrollo blinked and the moment refused to break. The stranger was smiling down at him, the lust evident in his obscured eyes. “I want you,” the man continued, brushing Chrollo’s cheek with his knuckles. The tenderness in which he touched was at odds with the animalistic need behind his mask.

“I…” Chrollo began, feeling the stares begin to congregate on them. “I need to leave.”

“Don’t go,” the man said, running his hands down Chrollo’s back, settling on his hips. It was nearly indecent how close he was standing, cradling Chrollo’s narrow hips in his hands like he never wanted to be parted from them. “I know somewhere we could go together. I could make the night even sweeter for you, so don’t go just yet.”

Chrollo was being seduced. The realization came quickly and dizzyingly. He tightened his hands into fists against the man’s broad chest, his cheeks turning pink at the thought. “You don’t even know who I am,” he said quietly, his mind rushing with thoughts and wants, all conflicting and all too easily ignorable when pressed against the strong body before him.

The man smiled, wide and charming. “Isn’t that the fun of a masquerade?” he asked, giving Chrollo’s hips a fondling squeeze.

This was dangerous, both for the attention Chrollo was attracting and for the burgeoning want he was beginning to feel licking down his spine. It had been awhile since he’d last… Chrollo cleared his throat and looked the man in the eye, doing his best to frown at him. “I appreciate your interest but—”

The hands moved from his hips to his ass in the time it took to breathe, cutting Chrollo off before he could finish his rejection. Chrollo’s eyes went wide and the man grinned, giving him a squeeze that sent heat and mortification through Chrollo’s body. “Please?” the stranger asked, giving him another fondle. “You couldn’t have anything so pressing that can’t wait until after you’ve enjoyed yourself a little more. You would look so good spread out on a bed. Let me show you a good time, my little vixen.”

Vixen? Chrollo’s head spun and he clutched at the man’s strong arms, face on fire. Had anyone ever been so forward with him before? This was too much to handle. “Fine,” Chrollo gasped, leaning his head against the man’s chest. “Fine, fine. You’re too much, you know that?”

His smile was luminous. “So long as it wins me you, I couldn’t care,” the man laughed, letting go of Chrollo’s ass to take him by the hand instead. The stares followed them as they left the dancefloor, the man seemingly parting the crowd by just his force of presence. Chrollo hid his face in the man’s shoulder, cheeks warm. He was doing a piss poor job at maintaining a low profile. Whispers followed them through the doors and into the hallway, but Chrollo comforted himself with the thought that no one knew him and no one, including this man, would ever see him again. They were headed towards the inner rooms and parts of the palace, exactly where Chrollo needed to be. Once he had had his fun and seen to this suitor, he would take his leave and finish what he had come here to do.

Chrollo tried to keep his thoughts on work, on what all he intended to steal once he was free to do so, but the hand on his back kept dragging him back to the present. The strong, lion-like man at his side walked so close to him, delighting himself in Chrollo’s person until they came to wherever he had led them. The sounds of the ball were long gone now, the palace cool and dark and lit only by the torches mounted on the walls.

“Where are we going?” Chrollo asked softly, earning himself another squeeze to his hip.

“Somewhere where I can appreciate you properly,” the man replied, giving him a hungry smile. With the lion’s mask covering his eyes, Chrollo really did feel as if he were on his way to be devoured. He led them down a corridor and towards a thick, solitary door. Chrollo waited for the man to open it, walking in first when he was gestured inside.

If Chrollo had found the ballroom to be opulent, then this bedroom was the definition of luxury itself. The hand on his lower back guided him inside when he paused in the doorway, his mouth gaping a little as he took in the sheer wealth around him. Beautiful molding bordered the room, gilded with what he had a sneaking suspicion was real gold. The floors were covered in thick, expensive rugs and carpets, obscured and understated when compared to the furniture resting atop it. Chrollo heard the man walk over towards the large canopied bed, and he took the moment he had to himself to set his hat atop the surface of a nearby vanity, running his fingers over the edge of the polished wood and decorative inlays. Mother-of-Pearl kissed his fingertips, cool and opaque in the dim light of the setting sun just outside the enormous window across the room.

“Do you like it?” the stranger asked, his low voice suddenly so close. Chrollo startled a little but relaxed easily enough, allowing the man to embrace him from behind, his strong, muscular arms a heavy weight around Chrollo’s narrow waist.

“It’s…” Chrollo’s voice drifted and stilled in the fragrant air, feeling out of place amongst so much wealth. He was grateful for his mask for hiding him from sight. He hardly was worthy to be in a room such as this, but the man behind him didn’t seem to mind one bit. “It’s beautiful,” Chrollo managed to say after a moment of thought. “Whose is it? This hardly seems befitting of a guest room.”

The answering laugh resounded in his ear, low and rumbling like brontide. Chrollo felt it down to the tips of his toes, his cheeks turning pink as it washed over him in a wave. This stranger’s voice alone was a weapon, one capable of cutting Chrollo to pieces. “You think so? Perhaps the king simply wishes his guests to live as he does while under his roof.” The man’s hands were already wandering, which Chrollo couldn’t begrudge him much for. That is what they had come here to do, though Chrollo had imagined something a little less fancy in regards to the _where._

Bundling up his reservations and swallowing them down, Chrollo leaned back against the man’s broad chest, peering up at him through his mask. “The king must be a generous man indeed, if that is how he treats his guests,” he murmured, reaching up a hand to guide the stranger’s lips to his neck.

The lips smiled against his skin. “Why, thank you,” the man chuckled, dipping his hands beneath the hem of Chrollo’s shirt to take in what lay below. His teeth nipped at Chrollo’s pulse point for just a moment, making Chrollo moan. “That means a lot coming from someone like you.”

Chrollo clutched the stranger’s arms, going up on his toes to get more of what the man’s lips seemed to promise. “Th-Thank you?” he breathed, swallowing a keen before it could break free. “Why does it matter to you?” The hand on his stomach was so big, so hot and visceral as it climbed higher, eager to touch all it could, as fast as it could. It was almost too fast, but that had been the theme of the evening so who was he to pull on the reins?

Another laugh and another hand joined the first beneath Chrollo’s clothes, this one sneaking down his waistband to palm Chrollo eagerly. “Why?” the stranger asked. His lips were so warm against Chrollo’s ear, his every breath tickling Chrollo’s skin and making him shiver. “Perhaps because I’m the king.”

The world seemed to stop even though the strang— the _king_ didn’t. Chrollo’s eyes widened and his moan turned into a shocked yelp. “You’re the _king_?” Chrollo asked in a small voice, shrinking in on himself. Now that he was thinking of it, the man did have a similar build… and hairstyle… and presence…

Chrollo’s cheeks burned when the king, _King Silva,_ freed a hand to tangle in Chrollo’s hair, turning his face for a dominating kiss. The man kissed as fiercely as he looked, his lips and tongue coaxing Chrollo’s into movement, stealing his breath from his lungs and taking and taking and taking until Chrollo had nothing left to give. Chrollo closed his eyes tightly and felt himself moan, the edges of their masks bumping and scraping the deeper the kiss became.

“You really didn’t know?” Silva asked huskily when he finally broke the kiss, turning Chrollo in his arms so he could have him from the front. The hand that had been in Chrollo’s hair turned gentle on his cheek, cupping it as Silva’s thumb caressed the space where soft skin was overtaken by hard white.

“I… I thought you were just a noble,” Chrollo said breathlessly, his eyes struggling to stay open in the wake of the kiss. “I hadn’t thought a king would stand by and let me insult his hard work. You’re terrible.”

Silva laughed, his voice somehow getting deeper as his lust grew. “I couldn’t help it,” he admitted. “It’s no fun to play along to the rules of the masquerade when everyone already knows who I am. To think, the only person blind to my identity is also the most beautiful.” He leaned down for another kiss, this one almost chaste in comparison to the first. “I may have lost the game but I certainly still won the prize.”

This was terrible. Silva was terrible. Chrollo found himself easily maneuvered by the king’s strong hands, away from the vanity and closer to the enormous bed. Every breath Silva breathed promised something good, but Chrollo had a feeling that the king might feel differently were he to learn the true identity of the one he wished to bed. It had been fun and games and a good distraction before, but now it was just dangerous.

The sound of a gentle clatter broke Chrollo from his thoughts. He looked up and found himself staring at the unmasked face of the king, his ornate mask dropped to the floor and abandoned behind them. The bed met the back of Chrollo’s legs and he fell back onto the soft silken sheets, eyes wide and breathing quick. “What are you doing?” Chrollo asked, the king coming closer to rest his hands on either side of Chrollo’s prone form.

“You’ve discovered my identity so there’s no point in me keeping my mask on,” Silva said with a smile, his pale blue eyes as sharp as cut diamond in the quiet dark of his room. His face was just as handsome as it was on the statues littering the city, his face made up of hard lines and unrelenting angles. “You can take yours off as well. It’s a crime to hide an inch of the beauty you possess.”

He doubted Silva would think that when he realized that Chrollo wasn’t an invited guest, let alone a noble. Chrollo swallowed and looked away, but it only bared his neck for Silva’s lips a moment later. Large hands settled on his waist, coaxing him to lay down so Silva could lay over him. “That would ruin the game,” Chrollo said softly, parting his lips to gasp when the king rolled their hips together. Silva was already excited, his hardness firm and insistent against Chrollo’s thigh. It all felt so surreal, the thought of what was about to happen. “I won’t lose just because you want me to.”

“Perhaps I can persuade you,” the king nearly purred, his voice rumbling through Chrollo’s chest like a storm. “I’m sure I can offer you something far better than the prize.”  Even as he spoke, he began undoing Chrollo’s clothing, his large hands making easy work of the tie at his neck, the buttons of his vest. Chrollo’s shoulder cape blanketed the sheets beneath him, and with every layer that fell, Silva seemed to grow hungrier.

Chrollo couldn’t watch, not when Silva looked at him with such intent. “What sort of prize would you offer me?” he asked softly, tossing his hand over his eyes to hide from the king. He flinched when warm hands reached the final layer, his burgundy shirt parting like the seas to reveal his chest to Silva’s eager eyes and touch. “Gold? Jewels? Pr-prestige?” he stammered when Silva began to fondle his chest, his tongue hot and wet against his nipple.

Silva raised his head just enough to smile at him. With his teeth bared, he looked every ounce the predator his mask had made him seem. “Oh, something far more valuable and desired,” he promised, letting his fingers rub and tease while he spoke.

Chrollo bit his lip and tried to keep his noises to himself. His body felt so warm now, his cock aching in his trousers. “L-like what?” he forced himself to ask, his curiosity and arousal piqued. Silva was kissing down his sternum, laving his navel with his tongue. Was the prize more of the same? Chrollo could consider giving in if only it meant having Silva’s mouth where he wanted it to be.

Humming, Silva palmed Chrollo through his pants, earning himself a needy whine. “I’d make you my lover, I think,” Silva said lowly. His hand grew insistent, rubbing and fondling Chrollo until he arched his back and keened. “I’d let you share my bed and I’d drown you in the pleasure you wear so well.”

“I’m… I’m going to cum,” Chrollo choked, folding his arms over his face to hide. The mask wasn’t enough to keep Silva from consuming him whole, and the horrible thing was that Chrollo wasn’t sure he minded all that much. Not when it felt like this. “Silva, Silva, please.”

The hand disappeared from Chrollo’s front, taking the pleasure with it. Chrollo gasped and writhed, searching for the contact that wasn’t coming. “Not just yet,” Silva laughed, standing up and taking his overwhelming heat with him. “I think I’d rather see you cum on my cock.” The sound of shifting fabric filled the air. Chrollo began to shake, realizing that Silva was disrobing as well.

Slowly, Chrollo moved his arm and took in the king. Silva had slipped back onto the floor to undress, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging off his broad shoulders. Thick, sculpted muscle greeted the air when he let if fall from his arms, and when he caught Chrollo staring, he smirked, flexing subtly to show off just how strong he really was. “Thinking about taking off that mask yet?” he asked as he kicked off his boots and unzipped his trousers.

Chrollo could only shake his head, his cheeks on fire and his need so great that it verged on painful. This was so stupid. He was a thief and he was about to sleep with the man he planned to rob. Chrollo melted into the luxurious bed, the cool silk so nice against his fevered cheek. “I won’t lose to you,” he murmured softly, spreading his legs with a careful glance to Silva. “If you want me, you’ll have to do better than that to get me.”

Silva growled low in his chest, and before Chrollo could register him moving, he found himself pinned in place by the king and all of his muscle. “You vex me, vixen,” Silva breathed against Chrollo’s ear. “Kings always get what they want.”

There was no time to reply. Chrollo found his lips occupied in another devastating kiss as Silva went to work on the remaining layers that kept them apart. Chrollo lifted his hips and felt the cool air kiss his bare legs, Silva’s burning hands chasing away the cold. Silva’s touch was so hot, a raging inferno in his desperate need to touch every inch of Chrollo that he could reach.

Something wet brushed Chrollo’s entrance. When had Silva had time to find oil? The kiss failed to muffle Chrollo’s moans, so he spread his thighs wide and let Silva do as he pleased, working Chrollo open with his fingers as his mouth stole what sanity Chrollo had left.

“Silva,” Chrollo moaned, the king’s mouth moving lower to mark his neck. “Silva, hurry. I want to cum.”

“So impatient,” Silva sighed, working in another finger. His own cock lay heavy and hard against Chrollo’s inner thigh, rubbing wetly against his skin with every abortive thrust Chrollo tried to make. “To think, you’d even order a king around here. You really are something else.”

“You like it,” Chrollo gasped, savoring the accuracy Silva had. He seemed to know every spot that made Chrollo’s head spin, and he used the knowledge with relish, reducing the thief to a shaking, moaning mess within minutes. “Come on,” Chrollo begged, bucking his hips to chase Silva’s hand. “Come on, I’m ready, so just do it already.”

Silva swore and didn’t bother arguing with him. He pulled out his fingers and coated himself with more of the oil, pressing against Chrollo’s entrance with a growl. “You have no idea what you do to me,” the king said, hitching Chrollo’s hips higher, his legs wider, pressing the tip inside with nothing more as warning.

It was all Chrollo could do to hold onto Silva’s shoulders. The king was big, far bigger than Chrollo had ever taken before, and Silva seemed intent on feeding him every single inch he had to give. The stretch was uncomfortable, the speed too much, but Chrollo threw back his head and moaned anyway, too worked up to care. He was full now. So beautifully, wonderfully full. Silva buried his face in Chrollo’s neck, biting down on his shoulder with a low groan. From the way he held Chrollo’s hips in his hands, his grip bruising and mean, Chrollo could tell he was fighting the urge to fuck into him with abandon.

“You’re so _tight,_ ” Silva grunted, his shoulders shaking a little beneath Chrollo’s hands. His hair had come free from his tie at some point, curtaining around them both in a waterfall of pale gold.

“You’re j-just too big,” Chrollo gasped, digging his nails into Silva’s muscles as he fought to adjust. “M-move. I want you to move.” He tried to wiggle and shift himself, every inch of him aching for something more than what he had been given. Chrollo tossed his head and clutched at Silva, too desperate to care about the sounds he was making or the sight he must look in Silva’s eyes.

 _“Vixen,”_ Silva groaned, closing his eyes to fuck into him gently. The pace grew faster when Chrollo moaned wantonly, his hands falling from Silva to rest instead against the sheets. “You’re made for this, aren’t you? You feel perfect around me, like you were born to warm my bed.”

If only Silva knew. Chrollo moaned weakly, closing his eyes behind his mask. He wanted to take it off. It sat uncomfortably on his cheeks, getting in the way every time Silva kissed him. “Faster,” Chrollo said, ignoring his discomfort. He couldn’t give in. If Silva saw his face, Chrollo would never be rid of the man. “Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

Silva took to the command with consummate skill, moving his hips and thrusting hard enough to make Chrollo whine. He opened Chrollo’s body like a flower, burning through him with the need to claim and please and taste. Chrollo threw back his head and begged for more, Silva’s name heavy on his tongue.

The king was touching him. Chrollo couldn’t stop thinking it. The king was fucking him, lusting after him, _begging_ him to show him his face, to let him have Chrollo. Him, a thief with nothing to his name but the things he had stolen and what he had yet to steal. If only Silva knew. Chrollo wondered if Silva would even care.

Silva kissed him again, a messy, open-mouthed affair that left Chrollo breathless and mindlessly hard. “What are you thinking about?” Silva asked, panting in his ear.

He growled when Chrollo kissed and licked at his ear, sucking on the lobe. “You,” Chrollo purred, bringing a hand to Silva’s chest. The king really was so strong, his body built for power and strength. “How I… How I want you to cum inside me,” Chrollo said, punctuating it by digging his nails into Silva’s pectoral, dragging downwards in a scratch that nearly broke the skin.

Silva sucked in a breath and growled low enough to make Chrollo freeze, his hand falling back onto the bed. The rhythm sped up, Silva fucking into him like an animal, rutting against him wildly. “I will, you vixen,” Silva swore, his hands falling to Chrollo’s legs, hooking them over his shoulders to bend him nearly in two. “I’ll fill you up and keep you here with me forever.”

Trapped as he was between the king and the bed, Chrollo could only fist the sheets and cry out, forced to take the pace as Silva gave it. “Please,” Chrollo begged, the words punched from him with every devastating thrust. “Please, Silva. I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

“I love how you use my name,” Silva groaned, burying his face in Chrollo’s neck. He moved a hand from the sheets to wrap around Chrollo’s aching cock, supporting himself with just one hand as he worked Chrollo in time to his thrusts. “You’re so irreverent. Let me hear your voice.”

Clutching at the king’s hair, Chrollo gave him what he wanted. He begged, saying Silva’s name over and over, bucking his hips into the hand that held him and the cock that split him. Chrollo closed his eyes and let the pleasure wash over him in waves, cumming somewhere between Silva praising him and the next thrust. The world went white behind his eyelids, white and warm and soft, even as Silva fucked him through his orgasm. Chrollo groaned and shifted, clenching down until he felt a hot wetness between his thighs and Silva stuttering against his neck.

The thought that he had just made a king cum inside of him was heady and hot. Chrollo would have to think about it later to savor it properly, but the fact that it had happened was an added pleasure all the same.

Chrollo collapsed in the bed and barely registered Silva pulling out and doing the same. His body sang with euphoria, his breathing wrecked but his skin so warm. Silva kissed hungrily at his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, his hands petting Chrollo clumsily as if he still hadn’t gotten enough. “Perfect,” Silva murmured, sucking a mark into Chrollo’s skin. “You are absolutely perfect.”

Instead of answering, Chrollo just rolled onto his side and sealed their lips together, losing himself in Silva’s skillful mouth. The silk felt so good against his sensitive skin, Silva’s hands so warm and heavy on his hips. He straddled Silva with his wet thighs, moaning softly when the king held him close. For a moment, Chrollo toyed with the idea of giving in. Of letting Silva win. A life as a king’s lover promised to be sweet and easy, and Silva had proved himself already capable of seeing to Chrollo’s pleasure.

Silva seemed to sense Chrollo’s thoughts and the direction they had taken. “You are so beautiful,” he said, cupping Chrollo’s cheek in his big, warm hand. “Won’t you let me see you?”

“It would ruin the game,” Chrollo sighed, leaning into Silva’s touch.

“Forget the game,” the king pleaded. “At least tell me your name.”

Chrollo bit his lip. Silva kissed him again, trying desperately to assuage his fears. His hands were so warm on Chrollo’s neck, holding him close so he couldn’t run like he so wished to do. They tried to move higher, to settle on the mask’s strap, but Chrollo just settled his hands over Silva’s, keeping them in place.

“Let me rest,” Chrollo said softly, laying down on Silva’s chest. “Let’s both rest, and perhaps I’ll give you what you want later. I know you aren’t accustomed to waiting but humor me. Please.”

Silva sighed and chased his lips for another kiss. “You vex me,” he breathed, tipping Chrollo onto his side to let them lay beside each other. “I won’t be satisfied with anything less than you.”

Chrollo hushed him, closing his eyes and curling against the man’s chest. The smooth edge of his mask was cool against his warm face. “Save it for the morning,” Chrollo said to his chest, kissing the skin before his lips. “Perhaps you’ll get what you want then.”

It seemed to sate Silva for the moment. He kissed Chrollo’s head and held him close, smoothing down his back with his hand. Chrollo closed his eyes tighter and tried to ignore how nice it felt. The bed, the sheets, the wealth and luxury and the king wrapped around him, beholden to his every breath— Chrollo savored it for the moment but knew he couldn’t have this. Not for more than a night. Silva was sated now, but he wouldn’t be forever.

So when the morning came, Chrollo would be gone, leaving nothing behind but his mask upon the pillow and a kiss upon Silva’s cheek. It was better this way, Chrollo told himself, drifting off to sleep.

He was just a thief after all, and a king’s bed was no place for him. He had far too much left to do.

**Author's Note:**

> well that was fun! check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and let me know how you liked this. until next time~


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